Out of My Mind
by rhombus
Summary: Kyle/Oliver College fic. Oliver doesn't remember what happened. Until he does.  Sequel to 'In My Head'


**Out of My Mind **(sequel to _In My Head_)

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine, buttercup."<p>

Kyle's voice is way too loud and the room is brighter than any room has any right to be. I crush my face into the pillow and groan.

"I hate..." My brain jams up. As in, it feels like mashed strawberries. "...living," I finish weakly.

There's a jackhammer pounding away in my skull and everything hurts. Kyle reaches down and strokes the top of my head, and it takes away from the pain a little bit.

"Aw, snookums," he says, a mirthful smile on his lips, "Did someone drink too much last night?"

I can only groan in pain and pull the sheet over my head to block out the light.

Something isn't right about that, though. It takes my brain, working at full capacity, at least a minute to figure out that I don't usually have dark green sheets on my bed.

I peek out from under the bedding. "Where—where am I?"

"The frat," Kyle says. "Do you remember _anything _about last night?"

There's a strange look on Kyle's face. Like he knows more than he's saying. Like he's keeping a secret from me. I don't like that look.

"I remember..."

What _do_ I remember?

"You... fell on me?"

And it felt like lightning running all through my skin.

"Sorry about that," Kyle says, looking actually the least sorry about something a person can look. "Here. Swig this." He hands me a short glass with a mouthful of blue liquid.

"Wha?" I manage to slur out.

"Mouthwash," Kyle says helpfully. Then he squinches up his nose at me. "Trust me. You need it."

I swig and spit then stare helplessly at the hand Kyle has put out for me to take... until I realize he's just asking for the cup back. Which is kind of deflating.

I pretend I don't know why that is.

* * *

><p>It starts innocently enough. We're sitting on Kyle's futon, a large bowl of popcorn on my lap, watching a dubbed kung fu movie with some pretty killer fight scenes. Kyle is only a few inches away from me, and I'm pretty sure I can actually feel his body heat moseying on up to my own. Part of me, a part of me that is stupid and doesn't really understand how the world works, loves the feel of that heat. Wants it closer, because Kyle smells really good and his body is really tight and I should never, <em>ever<em> think things like that again. I'm _definitely _not gay. I just sometimes, well... appreciate beauty where it exists. That's not so strange. It's okay for a guy to objectively realize another guy has some... positive qualities. That's all this is.

Kyle gets up for a couple of beers. When he sits back down, he's even closer. My palms get all clammy, my pits perspire a little bit, even the backs of my knees gather some moisture in my jeans. Why is he so close to me? Why does it make me so nervous?

_(I know why.)_

I'm acutely aware of it when Kyle rests his arm on the back of the futon right behind me. For half a second I think he's trying to put his arm around my shoulders so we can snuggle in close and watch the movie side-to-side, practically cheek-to-cheek. But he doesn't. He's just stretching out a little bit, making the most of the cramped space of his dorm room. I breathe a sigh of relief.

_(Or disappointment.)_

Still, it doesn't explain why his fingers every so often graze the back of my head, making all my hairs stand on edge. It feels a little strange, but also kind of nice. Really nice. Comfortable, even.

That's when I'm able to put words to what it is I'm feeling. What's got every cell in my body paying attention.

This is kind of a date.

* * *

><p>I don't freak out as much as I could about the whole Kyle-and-I-had-a-secret-unspoken-date-in-his-dorm thing. And there's really no reason to. The local radio morning show does this thing every month called man-dates, where dudes—manly, masculine dudes—go on fun adventures together like paintball and river-rafting and I'm sure they bumps fists and bro-hug and it's all totally normal. Totally acceptable.<p>

Sure, Kyle is kind of... gay, and maybe that's the only thing about this that isn't quite right, but _I'm_ not gay, and that's all there is to it.

* * *

><p>It's late at night and I'm dreaming. It's one of those dreams where you know right from the start that it's a dream, and that liberates you, because you can do whatever you want without consequence, without regret, without restriction.<p>

Most times when I dream like this it's pretty banal, though. It usually just means I've got absolute privacy, no roommates, no parents, no nothing. It's just me and a bedroom and I can 'take the dog for a walk' as they say without the ever-present fear of someone barging in and catching me at it. My own bit of me-time to work out all these... desires.

But tonight is different.

Everything is blurry and kind of fast and I'm not exactly sure what's going on. I just know that I _like_ it.

I think there's someone else with me. I feel a hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair and neck. I feel skin against my lips. My body is sweaty and warm (or is it the other body?) and all my sensations are heightened, like I have super-sensory powers. My fingers spark into flame when they run along a strong, hard stomach. My lips tingle at the slightest contact. It's all abstract passion and wanting, skin-tones and the sound of sweet breaths becoming one solid feeling inside me.

Then there are voices. Words that echo like a memory.

_"I want you so bad right now."_

_"I want you too."_

A quick snap of sound and vision and the fog starts to clear.

It's Kyle. It's me. We lie together on a bed, kissing. Everything is soft and warm. I feel... safe. The feelings are so strong, so real, I can actually taste his lips, feel every millimeter of his strong hand on my cheek, his lower body nudging up against mine in a way that makes everything tingle and swell and the room spins a little bit because I ache so incredibly good.

I wake suddenly with a very warm, very wet lap. And a startling revelation.

This isn't a dream. It's a flashback.

* * *

><p><em>Knock knock knock knock knock knock!<em>

The door to Kyle's dorm room swings open.

"Hey," Kyle says, smiling. It's 10:00am and he's still in his pajamas.

"I kissed you."

I mean to work up to it, but it just comes blurting out.

"I... I kissed you. At the party."

Kyle smiles benevolently at me, like a schoolteacher with his slowest pupil.

"Yeppppppp," he drawls. "You kissed me."

"Why didn't you...? Was I...? I mean, it was... okay?" I must've made a drunken fool out of myself.

Kyle grins. "It was _more_ than okay, pal—"

He barely gets the words out before I cup his cheek and kiss him again. He makes a small, surprised noise, a little _oh!_into my mouth that sends my heart beating about a hundred times faster than usual.

I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't come here for this. I'm not drunk and there are no excuses this time, except that Kyle's lips are so very, very kissable.

Kyle pulls back a little bit and smiles. "Took you long enough," he breathes out. His eyes are bright and flirty and mesmerizing. I want to fall into them.

His hands clutch my shirt collar, and he uses them to pull me into another kiss. I don't pull away, don't argue against this crazy thing that we're doing. It feels light years beyond great and I've been wanting to do this for ages and no amount of fighting it has been able to put the thought of kissing Kyle out of my mind.

* * *

><p>I don't know how long we kiss for. Time doesn't exist in this room. It's just me and Kyle and lips and warm breaths and laughing because I'm pretty sure I've gone absolutely, certifiably crazy. Kyle makes this low, moaning, purring noise when we kiss and it sends sparks of pleasure zinging all over my body. I can't help but hold his body closer, and yep, this is me going totally bonkers. Sanity and I have officially parted ways.<p>

Somehow we make it to the futon. Somehow Kyle's shirt is gone. Somehow mine is too. His skin is so warm against mine, his chest so smooth and strong. I want to kiss it, so I do. Over and over again. He smells amazing. He feels amazing. _I_ feel amazing.

I must be going out of my mind. This is so wrong. It _has _to be, even if my body's singing and I feel more alive than ever. I should be fighting this. Everything about this is wrong.

But Kyle smells like sunshine and when he smiles at me, everything is beautiful.


End file.
